


Times are hard for dreamers

by Minita



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, It’s 2021 so...trying times, Jon Is Not A Stark, Modern AU, Office Romance, Quality Time, acts of service, minor characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29420286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minita/pseuds/Minita
Summary: Jon is not a Stark in this. Sansa has just joined Ms. Lannister’s talent agency. Acts of service and quality time I guess. This year is the twentieth anniversary of the movie Amélie, hence the quote and title. And Ms. Lannister is loosely inspired by Miranda Priestly in my favourite comfort film, Devil Wears Prada. Warning: Brief mention of Creepyfinger and it’s set in these trying times, mentions of some restrictions.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21
Collections: Jonsa Valentine 2021





	Times are hard for dreamers

**Les temps sont durs pour les rêveurs. Amélie. 2001**

**Times are hard for dreamers**.

“Hard day?”

Jon walks slowly by her, the collar of his black leather jacket is up and he has his hands in his pockets. She has only been working at the agency for a week, and everyone has been friendly. The receptionist Shae is very nice, and also Mya and Jon, both agent assistants like her, except she is the manager’s assistant, Ms. Cersei Lannister. Just the other day in the kitchen there was only one cup of coffee left in the coffee maker and she arrived just as Jon was pouring it in his mug. He looked at her and without a word, he grabbed a disposable cup and poured his drink there.

“Here you go, Stark” he said, offering her the cup.

“Oh, I couldn’t, I...you got here first, it’s your coffee.”

She bit her fingernails as she said this. She wanted to slap herself, it’s a filthy habit that she’s been trying to stop. That and choosing scumbags for boyfriends. Those are her two resolutions for this year of our Lord of 2021 and it’s only February and she is already failing. Just the night before Harry the Ass had drunk texted her. She couldn’t sleep well after that and she had to run to catch her train. No time for breakfast or even a Starbucks and here she was, caffeine deprived, and bitting her nails.

“Take it. You seem to need it more than I”.

And he smiled, a timid smile that made the corner of his eyes crinkle. She took the cup from his hand and drank the blessed potion. As he turned around to make himself a cup of tea in his personalised mug ( it has a wolf in it and his name in black print, Jon) she couldn’t help but notice he has NOT being skipping butt day at the gym.

That was the only good thing that happened to her that day. Ms. Lannister was her usual brutal self and berated her for a tiny mistake in one of the contracts and for failing to transfer one call from her son. Sansa had been minding the desk all morning and she had to go to the restroom or she would have exploded. The call went to voice mail and she had to hear Ms. Lannister complain all day long about missing “Little Joff’s call” right before he boarded a twenty four hour flight to Australia. Little Joff is almost thirty.

That was only Tuesday. She doesn’t even have a mug with her name on it and at this rate she may never.

“That bad, huh?”

Jon’s voice brings her back to the present. He has a nice voice, silky, _sumptuous_ , her English teacher would say. Like chocolate, like his eyes.

_Focus_ , _Sansa_.

“Yes, well, I had heard of Ms. Lannister’s reputation before, but I really wanted to get a foothold in the business and, well...”

“What better start than working for the lioness of entertainment, right?”

She chuckles, “Yeah”.

Jon stops and seems to hesitate. She realises they are standing by the entrance of the subway. It must be his station. She still has to walk a few more blocks for hers, it’s late and she hopes it won’t rain. She forgot her umbrella in the office.

He turns to see her, hands in his pockets, dark curls shinning under the streetlights. “It’s February fourteen”.

It takes her a moment. He is probably trying to say goodbye because he is going to meet his girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Gods, she hopes is a girlfriend. Not that it matters.

_No scumbags_ , _Sansa. Or guys_ _already_ _taken_.

“Yes, it is. Well, have fun Jon”.

He looks at her and sighs. Looks around. “Thanks. I actually don’t have any plans but it’s very hard, you know, it’s a hard night to be, well...alone”.

_Oh, Gods_.

_Gods._

If that’s an invitation he is not very good at it. He is clueless actually. And he looks very handsome in his black jacket, all awkward standing there. He offered to walk with her searching for a cab but they all were busy. It’s Valentine’s day, it may rain, and anyone with a reservation it’s probably on the move right now. With the restrictions restaurants are going to be full with their thirty percent seating or whatever it is these days.

“Yeah, it’s hard. To be alone”.

“So, you don’t have plans?” He asks.

“No. I didn’t know I was going to be single this year”.

He nods. Scratches his beard a bit. “Well, I have been single for a while, Stark, I am the expert”.

“Sansa”. She offers.

“Sansa”. He says slowly, and smiles again.

“And what does the expert recommend?”.

“Well, you seem... the film type? Odeon is right around the corner and they always have rom coms on Valentine’s night”.

_Rom coms? He...watches them_?

“Yeah?”

“All month, actually. Sometimes even some European ones.” He runs his hand through his dreamy hair. “If that’s not your sort of thing...”

He’s giving her a way out. Right there. And it hits her. Harry, creepy Petyr before him, they always made the plan and expected her to like it, didn’t ask, didn’t suggest, just told her what to do, what time to be ready and sometimes even what to wear.

“Sounds amazing”.

They sit in a rather empty theatre, just one other couple a few rows to the left. Jon places the huge bucket of popcorn on the arm of the seat between them and hands her her lemonade and a napkin.

_Knight in a_ _shiny_ _armour._

She rolls her eyes at herself and grabs a handful of popcorn. When the initial credits roll she suddenly wants to cry.

“.. _.le 3 septembre mil neuf cent_ _soixante_ - _treize à dix-huit heures et deux minutes_...”

It’s her favourite.

Amélie.


End file.
